


pink

by astroturfwars



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Barebacking, Established Relationship, Fingerfucking, M/M, boys in cute frilly underwear, i'm so sorry about this, sort of a prompt fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 08:04:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1850599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astroturfwars/pseuds/astroturfwars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re pretty, they’re pink, and they’re just the right size.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pink

There are a pair of panties on Daichi’s bed.

They’re sitting next to a mass of flimsy wrapping paper and a glossy red gift bag, all laid out innocently and sparkling just the slightest bit in the dim light from the bedside lamp. The front of them is rosy satin, the gleaming expanse of it interrupted by twin panels of white flower-patterned lace meant to settle just inside the wearer’s hips. The edging at the bottom is that same white lace, and at the top are honest-to-god _ruffles_ , thin and sheer, their shape kept by a slim red ribbon knotted into a perfect bow at the front. Daichi turns them over gingerly, fingers gentle on the too-delicate fabric; the back is entirely lace but for an inverted triangle at the top made of something fine and completely see-through. 

They’re pretty, they’re pink, and they’re just the right size.

Daichi eyes them, wary, and turns back to the wrapping paper scattered across the bed; he unearths a slightly rumpled card from the mess and reads it for what feels like the hundredth time.

_Happy almost half-birthday_ , it reads, like Daichi isn’t fully aware that there’s actually no reason for this gift at all, _these should fit. See you at home_. 

Kuroo's name is written at the bottom, though there's really no need for clarification. He's the only one who would ever think of giving Daichi something so inappropriate and pointless (and kind of sexy, although Daichi dismisses that thought immediately).

The shower Daichi takes shortly thereafter is a little colder than usual, but that’s just to conserve hot water. 

\--

When Daichi’s done, he follows his normal routine: he dries himself off, drops his towel in the dirty laundry corner, and pulls on a t-shirt. 

He pauses on the way to his dresser. The panties are still sitting on his bed in all their glimmering gossamer glory, licit and pristine, and the card open next to them looks almost like an issue of challenge. 

Actually, now that Daichi thinks about it, it probably _is_ ; odds are Kuroo doesn’t even expect him to _touch_ the panties, let alone put them on. 

...now, _there’s_ an idea.

The panties fit well, though the elastic at the hem does bite into his hips in a way that makes Daichi think he should stop oversleeping morning runs. The color of the satin makes his skin look a shade darker in comparison and the lace paneling looks nice just inside his hipbones and _damnit_ , they’re kind of cute.

Daichi pulls the excess fabric of his t-shirt into a knot at his waist and--though he feels absolutely ridiculous for it--executes a slow full turn in front of the bathroom mirror. With the ruffles sitting where they should at his hips, the lace rides high, hem settling halfway up his ass. He runs his fingers under the edges and pulls the fabric away; the elastic snaps back sharp against his skin and the ruffles flutter in protest, but it does absolutely nothing to cover him up. It’s close to indecent--but Daichi wouldn’t expect anything less from Kuroo.

He doesn’t look too bad, honestly, but he’s mostly banking on the fact that Kuroo likely expected him to trash the bag, card and all, as soon as he found out what was in it. The sheer surprise of seeing Daichi wearing the panties will probably be enough to get a good reaction out of Kuroo, maybe get him to stop leaving Daichi stupid gag gifts for fake holidays. 

Daichi goes back to his bedroom, pulls on the first pair of sweatpants he sees, and checks the clock as he heads out to the kitchen. He’s got about half an hour, maybe more, before Kuroo comes home; he might as well get something done around the apartment in the meantime.

\--

He ends up spending the entirety of that half hour elbow-deep in a sink full of bubbles. Not exactly how Daichi’d planned on spending his evening, but it’s better than sitting around and waiting for Kuroo to get back. It also makes for great productivity: Daichi ends up cleaning about half a week’s worth of dishes--that were definitely not his to clean, and Kuroo’s going to get an earful about that later--to distract himself before he hears the front door open and close.

A familiar greeting echoes out over the sound of shoes hitting the floor. Daichi dials back the half-smirk on his mouth and says, loud enough for Kuroo to hear, “I’m in the kitchen.”

Kuroo comes up behind him on quiet feet and kisses the back of his neck. “Hey,” he says, breath warm against Daichi’s ear. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”

“Well, _someone_ has to do the dishes,” Daichi says, all-too-sweet, turning to pin Kuroo with his best benevolent smile. 

Kuroo grimaces, looks skyward, says, “Okay, fair point,” and tips Daichi’s chin up to kiss him properly.

It’s probably an attempt to distract from the fact that he’d shirked on dish duty _yet again_ , but Daichi doesn’t mind; he sucks at Kuroo’s bottom lip, runs his tongue over it, tries not to smile when Kuroo’s fingers sneak under his shirt. Kuroo drags his nails up Daichi’s ribs light enough to tickle and then drops his hands back down, settles them on the ruffles at Daichi’s hips. 

His eyes go a little wide and Daichi just grins, raises an eyebrow, cants his hips forward and lets Kuroo hook his fingers under the waistband of his sweats to pull them away from his body. 

“Well,” Kuroo says, but it sounds more like _wow_ , and he’s looking at the panties like he’s never seen them before. He recovers enough to tug pointedly at Daichi’s sweats and add, “These ain’t doing you any favors.”

Daichi scowls, but braces himself against the counter anyway and steps out of his sweats obligingly, one foot at a time, when Kuroo pulls them down his thighs. 

Kuroo just sort of _looks_ at him, and this--the little jolt of surprise, the spots of color rising on Kuroo’s cheeks, the way his mouth falls open as he exhales softly-- _this_ is what Daichi’d been after. The way Kuroo’s slacks start to tent below the belt is an unexpected but very nice bonus.

“I didn’t think you’d actually wear them,” Kuroo admits. 

Daichi’s grin comes back full force. _Check_. “I know.”

Kuroo’s expression is equal parts beaten and intent when he laughs, dry, and tugs at the bow on the front of the panties. He leans down, brushes his mouth over Daichi’s temple, and murmurs in his ear, “Turn around.”

Daichi’s ears go as red as the ribbon between Kuroo’s fingers. Right now--when his cock is starting to swell against the satin fabric and anticipation is making his heart tick faster than usual--is the _worst_ time to start feeling embarrassed. But Daichi wants to be touched and Kuroo’s giving him a look that promises the best kind of trouble, so he swallows down the embarrassment and turns around, arching his back to keep his hipbones from knocking into the countertop. 

Kuroo breathes out warm against the back of Daichi’s neck, gets his thumbs under the lace on Daichi’s hips and runs them slow down the length of the hem, lets it snap back against his ass. Daichi knows he should be more irritated about being teased like that--he tries not to let Kuroo tease him, as a rule, because once Kuroo knows he can get away with something he’ll do it _all_ the time--but there's a pleasant spark of pain that accompanies the snapping of the elastic, and Daichi doesn't mind the teasing too much when it feels like this. 

“So you _do_ like them,” Kuroo says, tone low, leaning forward to suck at the soft spot just behind Daichi’s ear. 

Daichi tilts his head so Kuroo can kiss down the side of his neck. He argues, defensive “I didn’t say that,” but Kuroo palms his ass with both hands and squeezes, and the rest of Daichi’s protest turns into a quiet, “ _oh_.” 

“That’s what I thought.”

Daichi is painfully aware of the breathiness of his voice when he snaps, “Shut the hell up.” 

Kuroo doesn’t respond; instead he sucks a mark into the side of Daichi’s neck and gets one of his hands under Daichi’s shirt, skimming over the bend of his waist and the curve of his ribs. With his other hand he cups Daichi through the panties, pressing his palm firm against Daichi’s cock. The satin is soft, but even through it Daichi can feel how calloused Kuroo’s fingers are when they rub at his cockhead until he goes hot under his skin, biting his lip and squirming, wanting to be touched. 

“I always knew you’d look good in pink,” Kuroo says, his voice a little too strained to be convincing of calm as he presses himself up against Daichi’s back. He’s so hard it makes Daichi’s mouth go dry, makes him want to say _fuck you and your stupid gag gifts_ and drop to his knees right there on the kitchen floor. “I should get a picture--”

For all that want is clouding his head, Daichi still has enough of his wits about him to know a bad idea when he hears one. His tone could probably set fire to wet paper when he turns, sharp, and snaps, “No.”

Kuroo doesn’t spontaneously burst into flames, but he _does_ blanch, stopping with his hand halfway to his pocket, and visibly reconsider if he wants to get laid tonight or any time in the foreseeable future. He picks the right choice and puts his hands where they should be: on Daichi’s waist and then lower, fingers digging into Daichi’s skin--and lower still, tugging at one of Daichi’s legs until he gets the idea and hooks it around Kuroo’s waist. 

But Kuroo doesn’t stop there; he squeezes Daichi’s ass again and says, grinning, “C’mon, get up here.” 

Daichi sighs, wraps his arms around Kuroo’s neck, and--this part is always a little embarrassing--jumps, just the slightest bit, to get his other leg around Kuroo’s waist, expecting Kuroo to sit him down on the countertop.

Kuroo does not sit Daichi down on the countertop. He starts walking, looking over Daichi’s shoulder to see properly, hands on the undersides of Daichi’s thighs to hold him in place.

Daichi is both indignant and aroused, but the former wins out. “What the _hell _\--Kuroo, put me down, dumbass--”__

__“Where?” Kuroo asks, like he’s not the one deciding where they’re going to end up. It’s irritating; Daichi thumps him right between the shoulders for it, and Kuroo retaliates by shifting his grip on Daichi’s thigh and pinching his ass _hard_. _ _

__Daichi chokes on what would’ve been something close to a yelp; the sound comes out strangled and embarrassingly high-pitched and much louder than he’d meant, and Kuroo stops dead in his tracks. For a second Daichi’s a little worried he might’ve somehow ruined Kuroo’s hearing--his mouth _is_ right next to Kuroo’s ear--but Kuroo gives his head a little shake, swears under his breath, and gets moving again. _ _

__“Are you okay?” Daichi asks. Kuroo’s muttering something under his breath about how _clueless_ Daichi can be sometimes as he kicks their bedroom door open, and Daichi’s got the feeling Kuroo wouldn’t tell him, anyway, so he lets it go. _ _

__Kuroo stops, presumably at the edge of their bed, pats Daichi’s ass once and says, “Alright, get down.”_ _

__Daichi unlocks his ankles so Kuroo can drop him unceremoniously on the bed. He’s got half a thought to protest about being manhandled like that, but Kuroo kneels on the edge of the mattress and hitches Daichi’s legs up over his shoulders, and Daichi sort of forgets what he was irritated about in the first place. That’s understandable; it’s hard to think straight with Kuroo sucking at his skin like he wants to make sure Daichi can’t wear shorts for at least a week._ _

__Kuroo’s smirking when he looks up to meet Daichi's eyes, and Daichi knows exactly why: those hickies are probably already blossoming on his thighs, and he’s flushed from his ears all the way down to his chest, he just knows he is, he can feel it, and--_ _

__“You’re pink all over,” Kuroo says, smug as hell. He leans up, kisses one of Daichi’s hipbones, scrapes his teeth over the prominence of it. “Told you it’s a good color for you.”_ _

__Daichi props himself up on his elbows. The glare he gives Kuroo is probably not very effective at all, given the heat of his face and the fact that he’s panting, but he tries anyway. “Shut up.”_ _

__Of course, Kuroo does the opposite. “Should’ve fucked you on the kitchen counter,” he muses, running his lips over the lace paneling._ _

__“We eat there,” Daichi protests, though the thought does make him shudder. He tries not to press his hips up towards Kuroo’s mouth, but his cock is straining against the satin, precome dampening the fabric, and he thinks he’d do almost anything right now if Kuroo would touch him like he meant it. “That’s unsanitary.”_ _

__Kuroo pauses, mouth open, and looks at Daichi for what feels like a full minute before he laughs. It sounds almost disbelieving; Daichi blinks at him, a little unsure._ _

__At last, Kuroo says, “You’re really something else,” and he sounds fond beneath that veneer of amusement. It makes Daichi ache briefly beneath his ribs, makes him want to pull Kuroo up and kiss him until his mouth hurts. But he doesn’t, because then Kuroo dips his head to mouth at Daichi through the panties, and his head goes a little blank._ _

__Kuroo maps the outline of Daichi’s cock with his lips, noses down to breathe hot at the base. He drags his tongue up the length of it, leisurely, fits his mouth over the head and sucks until the fabric is damp and Daichi’s breathing hard, fingers splayed flat over the sheets. And then he does it again, and again, all warmth and teasing hints of suction, the almost-there pressure of his mouth making Daichi shiver every single time. And that's good, but it's even better when Kuroo works one hand underneath him and presses a finger against his hole through the layer of lace. Daichi goes breathless; a soft noise bubbles up in his chest and spills from his mouth, catching Kuroo’s attention._ _

__Kuroo lifts his head, meets Daichi’s eyes, and pauses._ _

__“Fuck,” he murmurs, breath puffing cool over the growing damp patch on the satin. There's a chuckle in his voice and his eyes are dark, intent and wanting. “You’re hard to tease sometimes, y’know that?”_ _

__Daichi’s head is hazy; it takes him a moment to realize that no, he didn’t know that, and he’s not even sure what Kuroo means, so he says, eloquently: “What?”_ _

__Kuroo just snorts, tugs the hem of the panties down by the bow at the front, and licks at the precome smeared glossy all over the tip of Daichi’s dick before-- _finally_ \--taking it into his mouth. _ _

__He knows just how Daichi likes to be sucked off; the way he tongues at the underside of Daichi’s cock is deliberate and slow, like he wants nothing more than to reduce Daichi to something shaky and sweet beneath him. The persistent heat of Kuroo’s mouth combines with the way he looks--and he looks _good_ , eyes shut and cheeks flushed, lips pink and slick around Daichi’s cock--to put Daichi on edge within minutes. Daichi lets his head fall back and breathes, open-mouthed, trying to keep quiet enough that their neighbors won’t hear him. _ _

__Kuroo doesn’t seem to consider that at all. He’s clearly bent on getting a little noise out of Daichi, judging by the way he’s doing that thing he knows Daichi loves: working his tongue in firm circles around the head of Daichi’s cock, insistent, as he sucks until his cheeks hollow, until Daichi’s legs _shake_. _ _

__He doesn't stop until Daichi's trembling all over--and then Kuroo makes this self-satisfied little noise around Daichi’s cock just before he pulls off of it. Somewhere under the blood pounding in his ears and the sound of their breathing is quick crack of something plastic snapping open, and Daichi knows well what that means, knows what’s coming when Kuroo sits up and pulls him closer and tugs the panties to one side._ _

__Knowing what’s coming doesn’t stop Daichi from gasping when Kuroo presses a finger inside him. Kuroo guides butterfly-faint kisses to landing points on Daichi’s ribs and chest and throat before moving higher; he nips at the line of Daichi’s jaw and licks into his mouth, swallows the groan Daichi gives up when he presses a second finger in beside the first. And Kuroo’s slow about it when he sinks his fingers in up to the last knuckle, too, slow when he searches out that spot he knows will make Daichi’s toes curl. He knows just when he hits it--there’s no way Kuroo can miss the way Daichi goes tense all over like he’d been shocked, the way his cock jerks up towards his belly--and then he moves slower still, crooks his fingers and rubs Daichi there until every other one of his exhalations starts to sound like a low whine._ _

__“I’m not gonna last long,” Daichi manages, after a particularly heavy brush of Kuroo’s knuckles leaves him nearly lightheaded. And _god_ , it’s embarrassing to admit, but Daichi feels like he could come right now, just like this, with Kuroo kissing him and stroking him slow and fingerfucking him halfway to incoherence. _ _

__He’s pretty sure Kuroo knows that, too, because he grins like he’s congratulating himself on a job well done and says, “Oh, _really_.”_ _

__“You know what I mean, idiot.” Daichi doesn’t mean for it to sound so affectionate, but it does, and it earns him a laugh and a kiss._ _

__It also means Kuroo slips his fingers out of Daichi, which, in the grand scheme of things, is productive, but at the moment does not seem enjoyable at all. Daichi doesn’t whine about it, but he does groan low in his throat when Kuroo squeezes his cock once before pulling away._ _

__“Someone’s eager,” Kuroo says, pleased, as he works his belt open._ _

__The sound of his fly coming undone reminds Daichi that he hasn’t touched Kuroo at all, not in seriousness, and he almost feels bad for it. He’d feel worse if Kuroo weren’t smirking the way he is now--self-assured and clearly wanting--but either way Daichi moves to sit up, trying not to acknowledge the new heat settling on his cheeks. “Do you need me to…?”_ _

__Kuroo lifts an eyebrow, thumbs the panties aside again and shifts forward, not once breaking eye contact; his bare cockhead slides slick over Daichi’s hole, hot and thick and _definitely_ hard. Daichi swallows and takes that as his answer. _ _

__“Alright,” he mutters. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of the panties, glances up at Kuroo for a second, says, “Can I take these off?”_ _

__“Nope,” Kuroo replies, his grin all teeth as he rolls his hips. “Gonna fuck you while you’re wearing them--” like that’s not obvious from the way he’s sinking into Daichi slow and deliberate, like Daichi’d let him stop now anyway “--gonna make you ruin them.”_ _

___Oh_. _ _

__“Fuck,” Daichi says, with feeling._ _

__He won’t say _please_ , won’t beg to be fucked when Kuroo’s been teasing him like this. But he does say Kuroo’s name, once, the syllables of it careful on his lips, and it works just as well as a plea. Kuroo swears under his breath, snaps his hips forward until he’s pressed flush against the backs of Daichi’s thighs._ _

__It’s the best kind of burn when Kuroo’s cock stretches him like this: it’s the kind that fizzles all the way out into Daichi’s toes and makes him bite down on his lip to keep from crying out, the kind that makes him dig his fingers into Kuroo’s shoulders to pull him closer. Kuroo bears down on him, grips Daichi’s thighs and hitches them up around his waist, and when he rocks into Daichi this time it’s damn close to perfect; his cock presses up against that spot and _drags_ , and Daichi nearly goes breathless with it. _ _

__Kuroo leans down to kiss him, licks into Daichi’s mouth when he parts his lips. He says, hoarse, “Pink is definitely your color,” tugs the satin back up to Daichi’s hips and grinds the palm of his hand against Daichi’s cock, “ _fuck_ \--you look so _good_ \--”_ _

__The fabric clings to Daichi’s skin, makes it easy for Kuroo to cup him and stroke until Daichi can feel his orgasm edging closer, tickling under his skin, pleasure pooling warm in his stomach. He’s close, so close, and every time Kuroo fucks into him he gets a little closer, a little hotter, a little more desperate._ _

__Kuroo kisses his own name out of Daichi’s mouth, almost gentle, rocks into him one more time--and just like that sensation streaks up Daichi’s spine, building until stars are sparkling behind his eyelids like firecrackers. A sigh swells up out of his throat, low and soft; Daichi tucks it away in the crook of Kuroo’s neck when he comes, shaking, digging his fingers into Kuroo’s shoulders._ _

__Kuroo pulls out quick enough to draw a sharp, involuntary noise from Daichi’s mouth. Three firm strokes is all it takes to make him come all over Daichi’s stomach and thighs and those _fucking_ panties, which, after two orgasms and a good bit of not-so-delicate handling, are an utter mess. They’re soaked and sticky and maybe torn, and Daichi’s never been more fond of a gag gift than he is of this one._ _

__“Guess I’ll have to get you another pair,” Kuroo murmurs. He rolls onto his back and tugs Daichi on top of him. Daichi suspects it’s more because he wants to play with the ruffles than anything, but he rests his head on Kuroo’s shoulder anyway._ _

__“Hell no,” Daichi snorts, but he’s half-laughing against Kuroo’s neck. “Why don’t _you_ wear them next time?” _ _

__“I’m sure I’d look great,” Kuroo says, grinning, before he drops a kiss onto the crown of Daichi’s forehead. “But pink is your color.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> based on some "buy me cute underwear and i'll model them for you" post on tumblr. there goes the last of my shame.


End file.
